Chapter Eleven

Tom was done with Professor Binns' essay some fifteen minutes earlier, as usual. He stood up from his chair and came over to the ghost's table, handing in his work, and returned to his seat next to Frederic Lestrange.

Dippet was right. It was their last week before Christmas holidays, and its festive mood was spreading like a disease, capturing the minds of Hogwarts students. What's some dead girl's ghost when you have a holiday filled with presents to look up to?

Of course, Tom was a different story. He never returned to the orphanage during Christmas holidays. He was glad that he could stay at a mostly empty school, but perhaps it was the only uplifting thing in all of Christmas. This year, however, the holiday was playing to his favor, burying the truth about Myrtle's death deeper under festive buzz.

Orion did a good job cutting off the rumors surrounding Myrtle's case, and it barely took three days to contain most of the panic. The prefects patrolled the second floor, putting anyone who dared come close to the lavatory in detention, and soon there wasn't anyone willing to go and have a look at Myrtle Warren's ghost.

Perhaps, the only person left interested was Tom himself. And Harry, of course.

Tom cast a quick glance sideways to see what Granger was doing, but looked away hastily, not wanting to meet his eyes. After all, he still hadn't taught the impudent boy a lesson on what happens when you insult him.

⁃ You remind me of a cat, Tom.

Riddle was distracted from his thoughts by Lestange's comment.

⁃ What? - he asked, irritated.

⁃ I have a cat, you know. Back home.

⁃ That is fascinating.

⁃ He has a crappy character, to be honest.

Tom looked Frederic in the eyes, watching as his table partner shrank back under his gaze.

⁃ What are you getting at? - he demanded.

⁃ Well, my cat is quite curious about what I do. But acts as if he hates me. And every time I'm doing something, he creeps up, trying to stay unnoticed. When I do notice him, he hisses at me. But as soon as I turn away from him, he's studying everything I do with utmost curiosity. I've seen him in the mirrors.

⁃ And what is that supposed to mean?

⁃ You're the same with Harry. You act like you despise him when he looks at you and study him when he doesn't know. And he is the same with you, to be honest.

Tom stared at Lestrange, half-heartedly resisting the urge to smack him across the face.

⁃ You are imagining things.

⁃ Yes, probably, - he agreed eagerly.

Frederic finally turned back to his paper. It was silent for a while. Then...

⁃ I think it's because my cat is lonely. He wants company, but is too scared to show it.

Tom felt a huge wave of annoyance rising inside.

⁃ Shut up, or I'll curse you.

⁃ Yes, sorry.

Lestrange flushed and returned to his work.

Tom wasn't lonely. He never needed anyone; he was always better off on his own. Yes, Granger was the only one who knew his deepest secrets. Yes, Tom wanted to discuss it with him, see how Harry would react to Tom's words. Yes, he wanted to fill him up with many more secrets. Tell him about the future he wants, make him see what he saw, show him how powerful he was and what he was capable of.

Yes, it fueled Tom that Harry was the only one who knew exactly who killed Myrtle and how he did it. And Harry's curiosity pleased him.

But he wasn't lonely.

The bell rang, and Riddle collected his school supplies. He stood up and left the classroom without turning to check on anyone.

Instead, he was going to check on Myrtle tonight.

It's not that Tom wanted to see the ghost. He never cared about her when she was alive, and her afterlife didn't matter to him either.

It was something else. An itch, calling him to take a look.

It was very risky, of course. No one could see him there, including Myrtle. That is why that night Tom snuck to the second floor and drank an Invisibility Potion, prepared in advance. He waited for his body to disappear and made that final turn to the girl's lavatory, coming up to the door without a sound and pushing it gently.

The sobs were the first thing Tom heard.

Just like that night.

He looked down and saw that the floor was wet. Riddle carefully stepped in, walking slowly to the center of the lavatory, making sure he didn't make a splash or leave any visible footsteps. As he turned by the booth, he saw a grayish figure hanging in the air, hands closing its face.

A small spark of excitement in his stomach.

The ghost released another moan, making a circle around the room, flying right past Riddle, unable to see him under the potion's effect.

That wasn't enough. That itch was still there, just short of palpable, and he didn't know how to stop it. As soon as the spark had worn off, it almost felt boring. Staring at that girl, who was floating around, lost in her depressing thoughts. Boring and irritating.

Tom walked up to the sink that concealed the entrance to his Chamber. Is this where he stood that night? Yes, this exact spot.

He traced the small snake etched into the sink with his finger. Oh, what a powerful temptation to say the words. This was closer to his itch.

Riddle felt a wave of ice-cold air run over his back and turned around, a welcome burst of adrenaline rushing in his veins. The ghost was hanging right behind him, looking straight into his eyes.

How was this possible? Did he make some noise?

- It was here... That murderer... He stood here...

Tom felt his hair electrify.

- And I... What wrong did I do him?! Everyone was so mean to me!

The ghost's voice broke into whining, enormous tears running down her face. She clasped her hands on her face and dashed away, flying into one of the toilets, causing a stream of water to erupt from it, sending a low wave across the puddle towards Riddle's feet, soaking the fringes of his school robe.

That was close. She didn't see him after all. Suddenly all he felt was an urge to laugh in her face.

Tom turned back to the sink. Oh, the horror he could get Myrtle in if he opened the entrance right now. The wave of panic that would cover the castle once more, ruining all the effort Orion put in calming the school. Just when each and everyone felt comfortable, safe, thinking of their warm houses, with their stupid parents, their stupid Christmas gifts - just when everything felt peaceful and happy, he would take it away from them and unleash the evil that lay deep down, under the school.

Or, even better. End the Invisibility Potion's effect, walk up to Myrtle and say it in her face.

"Hi, Myrtle. So, how does it feel to be murdered by me? Was that the high point of your sorry life? You must have dreamed of spending some alone time with me. So? Did you like it? How does the Heir of Slytherin's justice feel?".

Let her scream, let her tell on him. Set it out in the open that he was the one who had done the deed. Let this drab, polite façade of his fall away, leaving only what he really was. A superior.

Tom breathed rapidly, calming down his heartbeat. He wanted this, yes, he wanted this, every single one of them to know that it was coming. He was coming, and bringing his Horde with him to usher in his New World.

Harry was quietly pacing the dormitory, making sure not to wake up his roommates.

Three days have passed since Myrtle's ghost returned, and the school was as calm as if nothing had happened.

Sure, there was panic in the beginning. That day everyone rushed to the girl's lavatory to stare at the ghost.

Harry didn't go, of course. He couldn't afford Myrtle to know who he was in the future. That would be too dangerous. He would have to avoid her.

Then Orion arrived with his army of prefects, and they started to clear out the place, sending warnings at first, then detentions flying here and there.

And then there was no one, except an occasional adrenaline seeker and Damian, who decided he needed to say sorry to Myrtle in person. That didn't go very well, because Myrtle threw a tantrum, soaking Damian with drain water and effectively getting him slapped with detention for all his goodness of heart.

Besides that, everything seemed to settle down. Myrtle's life was, just as Damian said, of little importance to the school, - and Harry was sick of it.

Riddle was the one who pissed him off most of all. That bastard came out of water completely dry. He didn't seem nervous, he didn't seem moody - nothing changed in his appearance. Moreover, the few times he looked at Harry it felt like he was about to smile.

And now he was Merlin knows where. His bed was empty, his bed curtain displaying his impeccably flat blanket and perfectly fluffed up pillow, as if mocking the mess Potter's bed was next to it. Harry was sure that if he opened Riddle's drawer, he'd find socks folded and sorted by color. If he didn't hate Tom for being an evil bastard, he'd probably hate him for being an utterly certifiable perfectionist.

Potter walked up to his bed, straightened his crumpled sheets and started staring at the socks he pulled off an hour ago, lying on the floor.

What if Tom was actually terrified and losing his mind over this case? What if Dumbledore had interrogated Riddle, what with Harry telling him that he knew Hagrid was innocent? Could Tom possibly be sorry and regretting what he had done?

Where was that Tom? It wasn't his patrol night, as far as Harry could calculate. Was he covering up his tracks? Was he in the Chamber? Was he on a secret date with Augustina?

At that thought Harry angrily shoved his socks under the bed.

The door creaked, and Potter turned, startled.

- Harry? - Tom was standing in the doorway, - Are you waiting for me?

That smile he kept hiding spread on his smug face. Harry noticed water dripping off the bottom of his school robe. Of course. He was probably back from the flooded girls' lavatory.

- You don't even care anyone with half a brain can see where you were, do you?

Riddle walked into the room and threw his school robe off his shoulders and right on the floor. That was very out of character for him.

- Why care, Harry? No one suspects me, except your precious Dumbledore. Why should I bother?

Tom walked up close, looking down at Harry.

- I would even say I expected more.

- More? - Harry took a step back.

- Yes. It's almost boring.

- Boring?!

Riddle's grin spread wider, giving him a beastly look.

- Maybe I should tell Dumbledore then? - Harry blurted out, regretting it that same instance. It wasn't wise to provoke a potential Voldemort.

- Shhh! - Tom placed his finger over his mouth, - Don't wake our roommates, now, Harry. Everybody had a long, difficult week.

Harry lowered his voice.

- What changed? Why are you so comfortable with this?

Tom sighed, relaxing his shoulders.

- Aren't you the one who said I should stop licking boots for privileges?

Damn it. He remembers. Of course he remembers that insult. Does this mean Harry meddled with his timeline again?

There was the sound of a curtain being shoved away from the right, and Rosier stood up from his bed, shivering and casting a frown at the two.

- Tom? - he said.

- Sorry we woke you up, Eduard, - Riddle replied.

- What are you two doing so late in the night? - Ed's voice was full of accusations.

Tom slowly walked up to Ed, pushing him back into the bed.

- Go to sleep, Eduard. What I'm doing in none of your business.

Riddle pulled the curtain back, closing Rosier in.

- You too, Harry. Go to sleep.

Tom's voice was unappealable, and Harry decided not to argue. He quickly undressed, trying not to look anywhere but his trunk, climbed under his covers and pulled the bed curtain shut.

He lay in the darkness, wondering what was making him feel so uncomfortable about Riddle's reaction to the whole Myrtle business. He's the killer. He should be afraid, making sure he didn't leave any tracks. Right? But then, how would Harry know? He had never killed anyone.

He was slowly floating off into a dream, when a light breeze around his neck woke him back up.

- Don't ever threaten me again, - Riddle whispered in his ear, warm breath sending shivers down Harry's spine.

He was gone before Harry turned.

Author's note.

Sorry for the delay! Couldn't find the strength to publish earlier - got very caught up with life :) This is a small chapter that leads to bigger stuff ahead. I hope you felt the thrill Tom felt in the lavatory ;)

You are all fantastic, and so is my Editor! And we are editing the next chapter tonight, so I shouldn't keep you hanging for long.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.